That’s not accurate. It was twenty of three when I first work up and a quarter of three when I got up to go to the bathroom . . . and ten of three when I decided I would probably be in sinus pain and sleepless and got up to clean up the kitchen after the late night rangers. Now it is 3:51 am.

I have scanned the headlines on the Internet news and am propped so my sinus cavities will drain and my pain is but a nose ache now. Here’s to gravity – a toast of aspirin, Coke and Diet Coke. The cure.

Oh, a sneeze  . . . that helped.

This seems detailed and I think I am basically blogging the clock. I could blog the dog – he has been in and out and had a drink, but he is sleeping now so not much plot there.  I could talk about the cat but we don’t have one, which is fine with me and fine with Sydney. He can sleep free of the fear of feline ambushes.

I may look and see if rain is predicted because, if not, tomorrow will be a day to mow and get creative with weed management in my new natural garden/lawn endeavor. You see, though, weed plot sculpting is negated psychologically if I call the outback a “yard” – which of course it is.

All of a sudden, I thought of gnomes. I think that would denote a yard, too. Now, why am I snobbish about gnomes and I leave rakes around and have the type of mutt ground cover that doesn’t have a name? I don’t know. I am waiting for the era of the inflatable gnome. And speaking of inflatables, this is July’s first week which means there are three left in the month and four in August and then Christmas things will start sneaking into the box stores. Hey, wait, maybe we could get an inflatable cow and put lights around its neck. I think I can back away from that idea.

I remember Bing Crosby being alive, but I think he’s been gone for about 36 years now. Still, I don’t think, “Oh, listen, a dead man is singing,” when I go shopping in the season’s music-filled stores. I wonder what people think whose lives did not overlap his. I have noticed that during the past three years or so, his songs are mingled more with other more . . . well . . . alive artists. So I don’t know if he is getting deader or not.

Ah, then there’s Jimmy Stewart and “It’s a Wonderful Life.” It will be a long time before he’s dead to even the younger generation thanks to the years of the no royalties on the movie and constant broadcasting that started a Christmas tradition. Just a couple of years ago, Walgreen’s had a deal on the movie and it played continuously in their stores. I asked a clerk about a shift’s worth of angels getting their wings, Mr. Potter and Clarence, not to mention Zuzu, and he gave a shiver/shrug. Gee, it’s kind of odd that a trend didn’t start of naming little girls Zuzu. Or perhaps not.

I believe my nose/head/sinus situation is better and the head pain is gone . . . but maybe yours is starting to hurt, given all this rambling about George Bailey and White Christmas stuff. Well, if it is, just grab a Coke, a Diet Coke, a couple of aspirins and delve into your own calendariffic out-of-sync ramblings. Like that Wizard of Oz thing . . . or Gunsmoke . . . mini skirts, tie-dyed shirts, VW vans with psychedelic paint jobs.